Starting Again
by SnapshotsOfAFool
Summary: The war is over but life is by no means simple. It's not easy being Draco Malfoy. Harassed by the light and dark sides alike Draco is forced to go into hiding, with none other than Harry bloody Potter as his 'guard'. Question is will his hatred for Potter grow, or soften? Who'd have ever thought his relationship with Potter could ever change so drastically Rated M for later drama
1. Chapter 1

Harry had become accustomed to being the last one awake. He expected it these days. He almost liked it really. It reminded him; When he lay awake listening to the house breathing, to the owls twittering, to the occasional car driving past Grimauld Place below, that they had survived it all. And at any rate, it was preferable to sleeping. He hadn't told the others about the nightmares. He didn't want to bother them about it and at any rate, it was silly wasn't it? It was all over. And he'd come out of the whole thing relatively unscathed. He hadn't been tortured like Hermione, or lost a brother like Ron. He hadn't been tormented by the Carrows like Ginny and Neville, or held captive like Luna in the Malfoy's basement. They weren't having nightmares. Or at the very least, if they were they weren't telling him about it. They seemed to be doing great. The thing was, he wasn't having nightmares about what _had_ happened, but what _could_ have happened. His dreams were filled with the red cat like eyes of a triumphant Lord Voldemort, glittering and gloating. But why when it hadn't happened and they were all safe?

Harry sighed heavily and took off his glasses, rubbing at his dulled green eyes. If he was awake he may as well make use of the time. Tomorrow was the Malfoy trial and he had been asked, and agreed, to testify on their behalf. He was doing it purely, he told himself, for Narcissa. Not for Draco or his Father. She had saved his life thereby basically saving the war. Testifying was the least he could do to thank her for that. He felt like he owed her. He'd spoken to her a few of times since then, once to thank her properly, once when she had asked him to testify, and then a third time to clarify with her details and proceedings for the trial and what he could and couldn't say. He'd come to the conclusion that she was not in fact, evil.

 _"Well of course she isn't,"_ Hermione had said, rolling her eyes and using an exasperated tone she seemed to save for Harry and Ron when she felt they were being particularly obtuse. _"Most people aren't as simple as a good guy or a bad guy out of a cartoon Harry."_ Ron had simply snorted and called the Malfoys something that had made Hermione use his full name and smack him with the book she was reading. Harry had agreed with her about Narcissa, though he wasn't convinced about father and son. As far as he was concerned, they were both snakes through and through and he had said as much whilst Ron grumbled his agreement, rubbing the back of his head.

But still he would testify. He wondered if there was a way he could get Draco and Lucius locked up but not Narcissa. Immediately however the older woman's sad pleading blue eyes filled his head and he pushed the thought aside. It had been odd, seeing the woman who had once been the very definition of pride, who had insulted the three of them in Madame Malkin's with the arrogant sneer if a woman who felt she was at the top of the food chain, so utterly defeated. So he picked up their file and started reading it for what felt like the one hundredth time. He knew all the details by now. Hell he could almost recite it word for word. But it was something to do, something to keep him preoccupied. So why not?

"Harry!" The sound of Hermione's voice, accompanied by the sharp jerk of his shoulder woke him with a start.

"Wha…?" He hadn't even finished his half formed sentence before she was snatching the file from his lap.

"Harry you've got half an hour before you need to be there come on!" she barked at him, ushering him out of the seat he'd passed out in and towards the stairs. And the bathroom.

The hot water hitting his face pulled him back to life and soon he was dressed and running back down the stairs, Hermione throwing some toast into his hands as they left the house, giving him a very Mrs Weasley-esque glare.

"You're still not sleeping are you?" she asked, and Harry crammed toast into his mouth so that he wouldn't have to reply.

"Leave out of it Mione. If he doesn't wanna talk about it don't make him," Ron said. Harry gave him a grateful look and Hermione just huffed, grabbing both their hands and vanished with a loud 'crack'!

They appeared in a little side alley, Harry's undigested breakfast lurching in his stomach.

"Jesse Hermione you could have at least let me brace myself," he muttered. She didn't have time to make a retort as Kingsley Shacklebolt, accompanied by a couple of the old Order members appeared next to them.

"Ready to face the masses?" he smirked, a glitter in his eye, a hint of amusement in his booming voice as he spoke. 'No' Harry thought, but he nodded pushing his glasses back up his nose, swallowing the rest of his toast and brushing the crumbs from his shirt. He'd been dreading this bit. He hated it. Everything about it. He'd hated it before but he _really_ hated it now. Swallowing, he readied himself and followed Kingsley as they stepped off the street and into the odd little toilet cubicle, flushing themselves into the ministry.

Harry had hardly had time to steady himself as he landed when a bright flash dazzled him. He was surrounded by clicking and flashes and voices, all garbled together so that he couldn't make out one word from the next. Kingsley stepped in front of them, the other Order members around them as they fought their way through the crowd of paparazzi that has flocked to the ministry entrance, all flapping and squawking at them in an attempt to get a quote or a photograph. Harry tried his hardest to keep his eyes fixed ahead of him, focussing on Kingsley's back as they walked. He was aware of Hermione's hand slipping into his, her's holding Ron's as the three of them stuck to each other's sides, being guided through the mass of bodies towards the lifts.

They were all silent as the lift descended, the rattling of the grate filling Harry's brain as he fought the urge to yawn. His eyes were stinging and he wondered vaguely if he was going to be able to stay awake during this or not. At the very lease, he'd try not to snore. He was snapped out of his thoughts as they lift pulled to the right, almost falling into Hermione before the doors opened and they were once again ushered out, greeted by the members of the paparazzi that had managed to make their way down here to the chagrin of the security staff. It wasn't supposed to be broadcast, though Harry was fairly sure that even those who had got this far wouldn't be able to get into the actual court room. Not now that Rita Skeeter's little fly on the wall trick had been exposed.

"Bloody hell," he heard Ron mumble as they walked into the court room. Harry of course had seen it all before. The wooden benches, the chained chairs, the way that the candles stretched and warped the shadows on the wall to make them look like wailing malformed ghosts. He'd seen it both in real life, and in the pensive. But Ron and Hermione looked horrified.

"Come on," Harry said, guiding them to the spot on the front bench that Mafalda Hopkirk had saved for them as Kingsley took his seat in the Ministers box. The court room was filled with muttering, scowls on faces, people looking terse, and unamused. Clearly most of them didn't think this was even necessary. Why weren't they simply being rounded up and locked away like the other Death Eaters? Harry could feel them staring at him, murmuring, whispers filtering into his ears.

"Potter wanted it."

"Apparently he thinks they should be spared."

"But why?"

"Wonder if the war boggled his brain."

"Stupid idea."

"Waist of time."

Harry sighed, raising a hand to rub at his eyes. Gods he hoped this was going to be over quickly. The hall stilled, a thick blanket of quiet settling over them and a collective shiver rippled through their robes. Harry looked up to see the Malfoys, all three of them, escorted in by aurors. They'd done away with the dementors since the war. They could no longer be trusted. Harry felt his throat tighten as he watched them all sit. They looked terrible. Worse than when he had last seen them. Narcissa had dark circles under her eyes, like bruises on her pale skin, and Lucius was unshaven, eyes red and pouchy. But it was Draco's appearance that shocked him most. His pale skin was grey, his face thin and pinched, like he had been forgetting to eat. He looked almost hollow, his eyes dull as they fixed on his shoes, flinching wider as the chains snaked around his wrists with a deafening clattering clanking that filled the silence. His closed his eyes, his chest heaving slowly, forcibly slow Harry through. He looked like a boy, a boy on the edge of crying, not a man. And certainly not a death eater.

Kingsley cleared this throat and suddenly all eyes were on him. He stood, nothing like Fudge. There was no forced air of formality and politeness about him. It was as though the war had drained so much energy from everyone, that they all simply couldn't be bothered with the old formalities and procedures.

"You all know why you're here," he said, looking around at them all, the jurors and the Malfoys alike. "This, is not a normal trial. We are not trying to decide the guilt of these three. Their associations with He Who Shall Not Be Named and his Death Eaters are clear to all." There was some muttering at this, but one stern look from Kingsley at the offending parties quieted them again. "We are here," he stated, looking back up, directing his cool gaze to the Malfoys this time. "To decide if that guilt, can be not forgotten, but forgiven, in light of the brave actions of one," Narcissa's terrified eyes momentarily flickered towards Harry. " And the change in alliance of the others, last minute as it may be, warrants forgiveness." More muttering. More staring. Harry watched as Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the chains clinking a little. Was he imagining it, or had the noise made him flinch?

The trial was a lengthy process. But then again, Harry had known it would be. He'd been through it himself. Narcissa's part went quickly. She didn't bare the mark. She was dragged into it. She'd saved Harry's life. He hadn't expected there to be much of a problem about that and there wasn't for the most part. Some disapproving muttering yes. But seeing as they were going on the legality of the issue, they could hate her as much as they wanted. That didn't mean they had grounds to lock her up and throw away the key. Draco, there was a little more trouble with. He'd taken the mark. Harry had always assumed that he had done so willingly, with pride, trying to be like his Father.

"He threatened to kill my parents." Draco's voice was quiet, horse, as though he was no longer used to using it, echoing around the hall in a shivering whisper. His words made Harry's blood run cold. The blonde kept his eyes on his hands as he talked, flickering up only for a moment to look at his mother. She gave him the smallest nod, and he looked back down, taking it as a queue to continue, like the little movement gave him permission to carry on. "He tortured my mother after Father was taken to Azkaban. Made me watch. Then told me if I didn't take up his mark and his mission he'd kill her." That was all he had to say. The muttering had stopped now, Everyone was silent, watching him. Some of the jury members were their old teachers. Harry saw the way McGonagall's back stiffened, her gaze dark, mournful. He knew if anyone had disliked Malfoy as much as he did, it was she. But even the stern Scottish witch looked horrors struck at his broken words. With that he was dismissed, and Lucius was brought to the stands. Lucius had less to offer them. Harry tuned out as he rattled off a list of names, some of them ones he knew, some of them he didn't. Draco's words seemed to echo around his brain, and Harry found his eyes dragged back to the blond boy, his head hanging, staring at his hands. He looked nothing like the boy Harry had known from school. He hardly recognised him. Harry almost felt sorry for him.

"We shall now hear from Mr Potter himself," Kingsley said, making Harry's eyes snap up. He swallowed, looking around at the faces staring at him. Standing, Harry tugged a little at his jacket before giving an awkward cough to clear his throat. He wasn't sure how to start. He'd been going over and over what he was going to say in his head but now that he was standing there he felt like his tongue had gone dry and he wasn't sure if he was even capable of forming words. He gave another awkward cough, the rustling of paper filling the hall.

"Uh, Hi," Harry said, tugging again at his jacket before adjusting his glasses. "I have to admit Mal-Draco… and I have never really… got on…" he said. This earnt a snort from Ron, and a small smirk from McGonagall. "Thing is though, it's kind of hard to hate the son of the woman who literally saved your life." He had their attention now. Even Draco had looked up at him, grey eyes watching him with a curious expression. Had Narcissa not told him about it all? "See, when Voldemort sent that killing curse at me, it hit me. Pretty damn squarely. But for some reason I survived it. And when I came to, he sent Mrs Malfoy to check if I was actually dead." He looked at her, meeting her blue eyes, gratitude meeting gratitude in their gazes. "Ignoring the fact that Voldemort was a practiced Legilimense and I'm not even sure _how_ she managed to lie to him and fool him" he continued "it takes a lot of bravery, to risk her own life doing that. She risked her own, and saved mine. And if she hadn't, I'm not exactly sure where we would be right now." He looked up around the hall. "This woman's bravery, this woman's change in sides, whether that was for us or simply so that she could find and protect her son, won the war. If that doesn't earn forgiveness, nothing does." He pushed a hand through his hair awkwardly, looking around at the silent crowd. He could feel their eyes on him blue and grey. He looked briefly at them both, catching the soft glitter of the tear on Narcissa's cheek. "That's.. Uh… that's it." He moved to sit down, Kingsley taking his place again. He took a minute to arrange the papers on the lectern, looking up around the crowd.

"You've heard all you need to," he said, his voice deep, the gravity of the matter weighing heavily on each word. "It's time to vote." Draco swallowed, eyes wide. Narcissa's hands balled into fists. Lucius remained, bleary eyes and still. "All those in favour of forgiveness, please raise a hand." For a few terrifying seconds, Harry though no one would raise their hand. Slowly however, hands started going up. First Hermione and McGonagall. Then others followed, until finally even Ron raised his hand.

"We have a clear majority," Kingsley said. "The Malfoys shall go free."


	2. Chapter 2

Harry had become accustomed to being the last one awake. He expected it these days. He almost liked it really. It reminded him; When he lay awake listening to the house breathing, to the owls twittering, to the occasional car driving past Grimauld Place below, that they had survived it all. And at any rate, it was preferable to sleeping. He hadn't told the others about the nightmares. He didn't want to bother them about it and at any rate, it was silly wasn't it? It was all over. And he'd come out of the whole thing relatively unscathed. He hadn't been tortured like Hermione, or lost a brother like Ron. He hadn't been tormented by the Carrows like Ginny and Neville, or held captive like Luna in the Malfoy's basement. They weren't having nightmares. Or at the very least, if they were they weren't telling him about it. They seemed to be doing great. The thing was, he wasn't having nightmares about what _had_ happened, but what _could_ have happened. His dreams were filled with the red cat like eyes of a triumphant Lord Voldemort, glittering and gloating. But why when it hadn't happened and they were all safe?

Harry sighed heavily and took off his glasses, rubbing at his dulled green eyes. If he was awake he may as well make use of the time. Tomorrow was the Malfoy trial and he had been asked, and agreed, to testify on their behalf. He was doing it purely, he told himself, for Narcissa. Not for Draco or his Father. She had saved his life thereby basically saving the war. Testifying was the least he could do to thank her for that. He felt like he owed her. He'd spoken to her a few of times since then, once to thank her properly, once when she had asked him to testify, and then a third time to clarify with her details and proceedings for the trial and what he could and couldn't say. He'd come to the conclusion that she was not in fact, evil.

 _"Well of course she isn't,"_ Hermione had said, rolling her eyes and using an exasperated tone she seemed to save for Harry and Ron when she felt they were being particularly obtuse. _"Most people aren't as simple as a good guy or a bad guy out of a cartoon Harry."_ Ron had simply snorted and called the Malfoys something that had made Hermione use his full name and smack him with the book she was reading. Harry had agreed with her about Narcissa, though he wasn't convinced about father and son. As far as he was concerned, they were both snakes through and through and he had said as much whilst Ron grumbled his agreement, rubbing the back of his head.

But still he would testify. He wondered if there was a way he could get Draco and Lucius locked up but not Narcissa. Immediately however the older woman's sad pleading blue eyes filled his head and he pushed the thought aside. It had been odd, seeing the woman who had once been the very definition of pride, who had insulted the three of them in Madame Malkin's with the arrogant sneer if a woman who felt she was at the top of the food chain, so utterly defeated. So he picked up their file and started reading it for what felt like the one hundredth time. He knew all the details by now. Hell he could almost recite it word for word. But it was something to do, something to keep him preoccupied. So why not?

"Harry!" The sound of Hermione's voice, accompanied by the sharp jerk of his shoulder woke him with a start.

"Wha…?" He hadn't even finished his half formed sentence before she was snatching the file from his lap.

"Harry you've got half an hour before you need to be there come on!" she barked at him, ushering him out of the seat he'd passed out in and towards the stairs. And the bathroom.

The hot water hitting his face pulled him back to life and soon he was dressed and running back down the stairs, Hermione throwing some toast into his hands as they left the house, giving him a very Mrs Weasley-esque glare.

"You're still not sleeping are you?" she asked, and Harry crammed toast into his mouth so that he wouldn't have to reply.

"Leave out of it Mione. If he doesn't wanna talk about it don't make him," Ron said. Harry gave him a grateful look and Hermione just huffed, grabbing both their hands and vanished with a loud 'crack'!

They appeared in a little side alley, Harry's undigested breakfast lurching in his stomach.

"Jesse Hermione you could have at least let me brace myself," he muttered. She didn't have time to make a retort as Kingsley Shacklebolt, accompanied by a couple of the old Order members appeared next to them.

"Ready to face the masses?" he smirked, a glitter in his eye, a hint of amusement in his booming voice as he spoke. 'No' Harry thought, but he nodded pushing his glasses back up his nose, swallowing the rest of his toast and brushing the crumbs from his shirt. He'd been dreading this bit. He hated it. Everything about it. He'd hated it before but he _really_ hated it now. Swallowing, he readied himself and followed Kingsley as they stepped off the street and into the odd little toilet cubicle, flushing themselves into the ministry.

Harry had hardly had time to steady himself as he landed when a bright flash dazzled him. He was surrounded by clicking and flashes and voices, all garbled together so that he couldn't make out one word from the next. Kingsley stepped in front of them, the other Order members around them as they fought their way through the crowd of paparazzi that has flocked to the ministry entrance, all flapping and squawking at them in an attempt to get a quote or a photograph. Harry tried his hardest to keep his eyes fixed ahead of him, focussing on Kingsley's back as they walked. He was aware of Hermione's hand slipping into his, her's holding Ron's as the three of them stuck to each other's sides, being guided through the mass of bodies towards the lifts.

They were all silent as the lift descended, the rattling of the grate filling Harry's brain as he fought the urge to yawn. His eyes were stinging and he wondered vaguely if he was going to be able to stay awake during this or not. At the very lease, he'd try not to snore. He was snapped out of his thoughts as they lift pulled to the right, almost falling into Hermione before the doors opened and they were once again ushered out, greeted by the members of the paparazzi that had managed to make their way down here to the chagrin of the security staff. It wasn't supposed to be broadcast, though Harry was fairly sure that even those who had got this far wouldn't be able to get into the actual court room. Not now that Rita Skeeter's little fly on the wall trick had been exposed.

"Bloody hell," he heard Ron mumble as they walked into the court room. Harry of course had seen it all before. The wooden benches, the chained chairs, the way that the candles stretched and warped the shadows on the wall to make them look like wailing malformed ghosts. He'd seen it both in real life, and in the pensive. But Ron and Hermione looked horrified.

"Come on," Harry said, guiding them to the spot on the front bench that Mafalda Hopkirk had saved for them as Kingsley took his seat in the Ministers box. The court room was filled with muttering, scowls on faces, people looking terse, and unamused. Clearly most of them didn't think this was even necessary. Why weren't they simply being rounded up and locked away like the other Death Eaters? Harry could feel them staring at him, murmuring, whispers filtering into his ears.

"Potter wanted it."

"Apparently he thinks they should be spared."

"But why?"

"Wonder if the war boggled his brain."

"Stupid idea."

"Waist of time."

Harry sighed, raising a hand to rub at his eyes. Gods he hoped this was going to be over quickly. The hall stilled, a thick blanket of quiet settling over them and a collective shiver rippled through their robes. Harry looked up to see the Malfoys, all three of them, escorted in by aurors. They'd done away with the dementors since the war. They could no longer be trusted. Harry felt his throat tighten as he watched them all sit. They looked terrible. Worse than when he had last seen them. Narcissa had dark circles under her eyes, like bruises on her pale skin, and Lucius was unshaven, eyes red and pouchy. But it was Draco's appearance that shocked him most. His pale skin was grey, his face thin and pinched, like he had been forgetting to eat. He looked almost hollow, his eyes dull as they fixed on his shoes, flinching wider as the chains snaked around his wrists with a deafening clattering clanking that filled the silence. His closed his eyes, his chest heaving slowly, forcibly slow Harry through. He looked like a boy, a boy on the edge of crying, not a man. And certainly not a death eater.

Kingsley cleared this throat and suddenly all eyes were on him. He stood, nothing like Fudge. There was no forced air of formality and politeness about him. It was as though the war had drained so much energy from everyone, that they all simply couldn't be bothered with the old formalities and procedures.

"You all know why you're here," he said, looking around at them all, the jurors and the Malfoys alike. "This, is not a normal trial. We are not trying to decide the guilt of these three. Their associations with He Who Shall Not Be Named and his Death Eaters are clear to all." There was some muttering at this, but one stern look from Kingsley at the offending parties quieted them again. "We are here," he stated, looking back up, directing his cool gaze to the Malfoys this time. "To decide if that guilt, can be not forgotten, but forgiven, in light of the brave actions of one," Narcissa's terrified eyes momentarily flickered towards Harry. " And the change in alliance of the others, last minute as it may be, warrants forgiveness." More muttering. More staring. Harry watched as Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the chains clinking a little. Was he imagining it, or had the noise made him flinch?

The trial was a lengthy process. But then again, Harry had known it would be. He'd been through it himself. Narcissa's part went quickly. She didn't bare the mark. She was dragged into it. She'd saved Harry's life. He hadn't expected there to be much of a problem about that and there wasn't for the most part. Some disapproving muttering yes. But seeing as they were going on the legality of the issue, they could hate her as much as they wanted. That didn't mean they had grounds to lock her up and throw away the key. Draco, there was a little more trouble with. He'd taken the mark. Harry had always assumed that he had done so willingly, with pride, trying to be like his Father.

"He threatened to kill my parents." Draco's voice was quiet, horse, as though he was no longer used to using it, echoing around the hall in a shivering whisper. His words made Harry's blood run cold. The blonde kept his eyes on his hands as he talked, flickering up only for a moment to look at his mother. She gave him the smallest nod, and he looked back down, taking it as a queue to continue, like the little movement gave him permission to carry on. "He tortured my mother after Father was taken to Azkaban. Made me watch. Then told me if I didn't take up his mark and his mission he'd kill her." That was all he had to say. The muttering had stopped now, Everyone was silent, watching him. Some of the jury members were their old teachers. Harry saw the way McGonagall's back stiffened, her gaze dark, mournful. He knew if anyone had disliked Malfoy as much as he did, it was she. But even the stern Scottish witch looked horrors struck at his broken words. With that he was dismissed, and Lucius was brought to the stands. Lucius had less to offer them. Harry tuned out as he rattled off a list of names, some of them ones he knew, some of them he didn't. Draco's words seemed to echo around his brain, and Harry found his eyes dragged back to the blond boy, his head hanging, staring at his hands. He looked nothing like the boy Harry had known from school. He hardly recognised him. Harry almost felt sorry for him.

"We shall now hear from Mr Potter himself," Kingsley said, making Harry's eyes snap up. He swallowed, looking around at the faces staring at him. Standing, Harry tugged a little at his jacket before giving an awkward cough to clear his throat. He wasn't sure how to start. He'd been going over and over what he was going to say in his head but now that he was standing there he felt like his tongue had gone dry and he wasn't sure if he was even capable of forming words. He gave another awkward cough, the rustling of paper filling the hall.

"Uh, Hi," Harry said, tugging again at his jacket before adjusting his glasses. "I have to admit Mal-Draco… and I have never really… got on…" he said. This earnt a snort from Ron, and a small smirk from McGonagall. "Thing is though, it's kind of hard to hate the son of the woman who literally saved your life." He had their attention now. Even Draco had looked up at him, grey eyes watching him with a curious expression. Had Narcissa not told him about it all? "See, when Voldemort sent that killing curse at me, it hit me. Pretty damn squarely. But for some reason I survived it. And when I came to, he sent Mrs Malfoy to check if I was actually dead." He looked at her, meeting her blue eyes, gratitude meeting gratitude in their gazes. "Ignoring the fact that Voldemort was a practiced Legilimense and I'm not even sure _how_ she managed to lie to him and fool him" he continued "it takes a lot of bravery, to risk her own life doing that. She risked her own, and saved mine. And if she hadn't, I'm not exactly sure where we would be right now." He looked up around the hall. "This woman's bravery, this woman's change in sides, whether that was for us or simply so that she could find and protect her son, won the war. If that doesn't earn forgiveness, nothing does." He pushed a hand through his hair awkwardly, looking around at the silent crowd. He could feel their eyes on him blue and grey. He looked briefly at them both, catching the soft glitter of the tear on Narcissa's cheek. "That's.. Uh… that's it." He moved to sit down, Kingsley taking his place again. He took a minute to arrange the papers on the lectern, looking up around the crowd.

"You've heard all you need to," he said, his voice deep, the gravity of the matter weighing heavily on each word. "It's time to vote." Draco swallowed, eyes wide. Narcissa's hands balled into fists. Lucius remained, bleary eyes and still. "All those in favour of forgiveness, please raise a hand." For a few terrifying seconds, Harry though no one would raise their hand. Slowly however, hands started going up. First Hermione and McGonagall. Then others followed, until finally even Ron raised his hand.

"We have a clear majority," Kingsley said. "The Malfoys shall go free."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Everything seemed to return to normal after the trial. All was quiet, weirdly so. Their days were filled with trying to strip down Grimauld Place, trying to finish what they had started years ago and make the place habitable. None of them had the money to buy a house and no one really wanted to move back in with their parents. Well, Harry hardly wanted to be around the Dursleys and given that Hermione's parents were muggles and couldn't quite grasp everything that had happened, she had been finding it particularly straining to be around them. Ron spent a lot of time at the Burrow. He usually slept there too, coming back in the mornings to help Harry and Hermione with the work at number 12. He wanted to be around them all but, it felt odd. A part of them was missing and everything felt, forced. It was easier to be with them in the evenings and at night when actual interaction was minimal. Ginny came over sometimes too. Though that was odd also. She, like Ron, wanted to escape the strangeness of the Burrow but, things with her and Harry hadn't seemed to settle after the war. They seemed stuck in this strange limbo, they weren't dating but they weren't quite friends either. They were awkward around each other, tentative.

One evening after Ginny and Ron had been helping to repaint one of the rooms, Ginny caught Harry's hand as he went to leave the room, pulling him back a little. Ron and Hermione had made their way downstairs and it was just the two of them and the smell of wet paint left in the half finished bedroom.

"So, things are kind weird right now huh?" Ginny said, still holding Harry's hand. He swallowed. Why was he so hyper ware of her hand in his. It felt small, slightly clammy. Too delicate.

"Yeah, yeah they have been a bit," he said with a small sigh. He didn't know why. Things just felt, strained, stressed, like the strings holding them together were thin and frayed. He pulled his hand out of hers under the pretence of pushing it through his long scruffy hair. It really needed cutting. She looked disappointed and he immediately felt guilty. "We should, go out maybe. Maybe it's being cooped up in here all the time," he suggested half heartedly. Her green eyes lit up a little and she nodded. Perhaps it would do them both some good.

"That sounds like it's probably a good idea," she smiled. Harry forced a small smile. He didn't really want to go out. Not really. He knew the minute they stepped out the doors into anywhere magical they'd be swamped by press. He didn't have the energy for it. But if she wanted to, he'd take her.

"Why don't we get lunch? We can go shopping for you school stuff at the same time?" he suggested. She gave a little nod, her red hair falling in front of her eyes as she did so.

"I like this plan" she smiled. "This will be a good plan. Shall we go tomorrow? The letters came this morning. They're repeating last year for obvious reasons but last year we never got a proper book list so, it's all new stuff." Harry was only half listening but he nodded and smiled where necessary. He was mostly dreading the paparazzi he knew they'd have to dodge. Could he do this under his invisibility cloak? No of course not.

"It's a deal then" he nodded. "I'll come and pick you up after breakfast?" And with that it was agreed. He'd actually be going out. Into the wizarding world. With Ginny. On a date. Was it really a date though? Well he supposed the lunch bit was at least. At any rate it was happening, and he wouldn't be able to get out of it.

The next morning Harry sighed when he woke up he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He'd been hiding in Grimauld Place, throwing himself into the work that needed doing with enough gusto to use it as an excuse to get out of almost everything else. When he thought about it, he wasn't sure when he'd last left here other than to get food from the local Sainsbury's. He'd gone into the ministry when Kingsley had asked him to. He'd visited the Burrow a little. But only sparingly. She'd stayed squirrelled away in Grimauld Place avoiding almost everyone other than Hermione and Ron. But he couldn't hide forever. Today was as good a day as any to try and haul himself out of is little hole. And if he couldn't do it for Ginny who could he do it for? After all, he was supposed to be in love with her right? At least he thought he was… or he had been…

Shaking his head he pulled himself out of his brain and went to shower, changing and grabbed his walled, filled with both wizarding and muggle money, and vanished with a loud crack. Mrs Weasley greeted him with her usual bear hug and ushered him into the kitchen. She already had a cup of tea waiting for him on the kitchen table. After the usual greetings she sat down opposite him, her own mug in hand and gave him that look only she could, like she was seeing straight through his smile to the core of him.

"How are you doing Harry dear?" she asked. "Hermione seemed a little worried about you. And Ginny said you haven't been out much recently. You look skinny are you feeding yourself?" Harry smiled at the questions shot his way. He'd missed her. Suddenly he didn't know why he'd been avoiding them all.

"I'm okay. I'm trying to eat. Sometimes forget," he said with a sheepish grin, to which Mrs Weasley scowled.

"You should come here for dinner with Ron," she said. "Honestly I don't know why you and Hermione insist on staying in the draughty old house all by your selves. You would both be welcome here." Harry gave her a smile, but said they were okay there for the moment. And that doing it up helped keep them busy. Besides, things were too stiff with Ginny for him to be here all the time. He never knew what to say.

It wasn't long before she had appeared at the bottom of the stairs, freckled face smiling, dressed in a green jumper and jeans.

"Ready?" she asked. Harry nodded, giving her a smile as he stood and thanked Mrs Weasley for the tea. They said their goodbyes and soon they had appeared in Diagon Alley with a loud crack. It was extremely crowded and sure enough it took only minute for one little boy to stop and point, tugging at his mother's sleeve as he shouted 'Mama look! It's Harry Potter!' Sure enough this earnt a volley of turned heads and 'oooh!"s and 'ahhhh!"s Harry put and arm around Ginny's waist and hurried her into Florish and Blots. They needed to get this over and done with as quickly as possible in his opinion.

"They only want to say hello Harry,' she sighed. She didn't get it. She never had. "They want to thank you for everything you did. You could be a little more gracious," she scolded gently. He gave her a vague 'mhm' as the guy behind the counter stared unblinkingly at him, his eyes darting from the scar on his forehead to his glasses and back again. Ginny started looking for her books and he followed. Hopefully if people saw that he was, you know, busy, with someone, trying to get shit done, they might leave him alone. But he should know by now that that was a naive hope. Barely five minutes had passed before there was a little kid tugging at the corner of his t-shirt. He took a deep breath, trying not to snap at him.

"Hey! Mister! Aren't you Harry Potter?" the kid said. Harry turned and gave him a thin smile. "No sorry. Think you got me confused with someone else," he tried. He also should have known by now that this didn't work. His face had only just started being removed from the papers and with the trial last week, there it was again. Everywhere he looked there was his damn face. It drove him insane. Why didn't people get that the whole war thing wasn't a one man show? Other people had been there too Harry, in his opinion, had actually done very little. Why couldn't they focus on other people? On the Order? On Ron and Hermione? On the people who created the resistance at Hogwarts?

"No, no you're definitely Harry Potter" the boy said. "I have a poster of you on my wall. You're a hero!" Harry resisted the urge to groan.

"Um, thanks," he sighed awkwardly, all too aware that Ginny was grinning behind him. "What, uh, what was it you wanted?" he asked. The boy grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Will you sign this for me?" he asked, holding up an old new paper clipping. It was a photo of Harry, helping to rebuild the school where it had been damaged after the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry gave a small nod.

"You got a…" before he could even finish his sentence the boy had thrust a quill into his hand and Ginny had found a bottle of ink lying around, passing it to him. Harry dutifully signed the clipping and the boy squeaked, running off to find his mum.

"There? Was that really so hard?" Ginny asked, before moving off to find the rest of her books. What she didn't see was that it happened twelve times more before she had paid. It was incessant.

By the time they had found everything Ginny needed for the new school year Harry was close to loosing his temper. On top of the usual books Ginny had needed new robes given that her one ones were torn and filthy from the battle, curses having scorched holes in them that had still been smouldering when she threw them out. It had taken them a good few hours, and a few dozen encounters with some extremely irritating people. Harry was hungry, and irritable.

Finally they ducked into a small cafe and took a seat in the corner, tucked into the window so that they could see out, but would be overlooked by passers by. Ginny chatted idly to him, mostly scalding him for how he reacted to the people who came up to him, for not getting out more.

"I just hate all the attention," he sighed. "Is that such a crime? You don't know what it's like to not be able to go out of the house without people hounding you Gin."

"You could just be a little more patient is all," Ginny said, picking up the menu to look at it. Harry opened his mouth to reply but his attention was caught by a scene unraveling outside of the shop window. He'd caught a glimpse of blonde hair, black robes stumbling. He recognised that figure. He watched, eyes widening as he saw Narcissa Malfoy backed up against a wall, her entire figure trembling as a group of four, three wizards and a witch, creep towards her, wands pointed. There was yelling, and through the din Harry could just about make out words like "traitor" and "filth" filtered through the window. A crowd was gathering now, people watching on as the wizards shouted at her, screaming about everything 'they' and 'their people' had done.

"Fuck," Harry muttered, pushing his chair back and sprinting out of the shop and launching himself in-between Narcissa and the advancing gang.

"What the fuck!?" Harry yelled, spreading his arms wide in front of them all. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" The oldest wizard of the group growled at Harry. He looked, Harry thought, a little bit like a rabid dog. All shaggy hair and barred teeth.

"Her husband killed my brother," he growled.

"Yeah. But she didn't. And they've been legally forgiven. So leave her alone," Harry growled back at him. Narcissa kept quiet, not making a peep.

"She shouldn't have been. She deserves to be locked up with the rest of them and rotting," the witch snarled.

"Yeah, well she saved my life," Harry snapped back. "So if it weren't for her I'd be dead and Voldemort would be in power. So. No. She doesn't." They looked at him, drinking in his words and held his gaze. The man spat, Harry recoiling as the spit ball hit the cobbles near his foot before he and the others left. The crowd was still staring and Harry shooed them away, ushering a still startled Narcissa into the cafe that Ginny was still sat in. She bristled a little when Harry pulled out his chair for the woman, her hands trembling.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, passing her his glass of water. Ginny was just staring at her, not speaking. He knew that she looked at the Malfoys the same way that Ron did. Narcissa took the water and sipped, her teeth clattering lightly against the rim.

"Yes… they didn't actually get around to cursing me. At least not magically," she said, her blue eyes finding his. "This is the second time you've saved me Mr Potter," she said, the smallest hint of a smile pulling at her lips, though it was forced and she was still looking a little shaken.

"Seems you owe him now then," Ginny said tersely, and Harry shot her a 'Don't-be-like-that' kind of look.

"You don't. They shouldn't have cornered you like that," Harry said, looking back at her. "Has that happened before?" Narcissa hesitated, looking down at the water goblet before answering, her eyes not quite meeting his.

"A few times," she admitted. Harry grit his jaw. He wasn't surprised though. He'd expected there to be a lot of outrage about them escaping Azkaban. Most people didn't know what they'd done, even though it had been reported in the papers. People were all good at ignoring evidence that put their arguments into question. Besides, they had a right to be angry. It was true. Lucius had probably killed a lot of people and the relatives of the dead were always angry.

"If it gets out of hand, will you write to me? So I can try and sort it out?" he asked. Ginny looked shocked as she looked over at him and if he was honest the words falling so effortlessly out of his mouth surprised him. But he couldn't help it. He found himself wanting to help the woman. And if that meant helping her family along the way too so be it. Your perception of a person somewhat changes after they save your life. Narcissa nodded a little and tried for a small smile.

"Thank you Mr Potter. I shall," she said.

"Please, Harry. Not Mr Potter," he said, and Narcissa gave a tiny smirk.

"I'll stick to formalities if you don't mind," she said. "I'm more comfortable with them for now." He shrugged, trying his best to ignore Ginny glowering at him.

She continued to glower at him all the way home, her eyes fixed on him until they had exited Diagon Alley and he had apparated her to the field outside the Burrow where at last she exploded, demanding to know what he was doing, cosying up to the Malfoys. The day had been long, and tiring, and far from leaving things with Ginny better as the pair of them had hoped, Harry left the Burrow fuming. It was clear neither of them would be speaking to each other for a while.


End file.
